


Slopes

by Ayri



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Addict Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Addiction, Aggression, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alcoholic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Alternate Universe - Human, Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Arguing, Aromantic Asexual Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Asexual Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Asexual Deceit | Janus Sanders, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Cocaine, Dark, Dark Comedy, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Is A Good Friend, Dark Thoughts, Deceit | Janus Sanders is a Good Friend, Demisexual Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Denial, Depression, Derogatory Language, Desire not to be Sober, Dirty Jokes, Doctors & Physicians, Domestic Violence, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, Eating Disorders, Food, Gaslighting, Gen, Guilt, Gun Violence, Guns, Harassment, Health Issues, Heavy Angst, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Major Character Death, Insults, Liver Failure, Loneliness, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Medical issues, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Original Character(s), Misgendering, Mugging, No Sex, Nonbinary Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Overstimulation, Panic, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Protective Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sarcasm, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Desctruction, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Tags Contain Spoilers, Terminal Illnesses, Threats of Violence, Trans Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Trans Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Trans Male Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Violence, Vomiting, Weight Issues, Withdrawal, cocaine addiction, heart problems, sex-positive asexual, spiralling thoughts, whump elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayri/pseuds/Ayri
Summary: Virgil doesn’t have a problem. He’s fine. He likes living this way. He makes bank and parties every night and forgets it all, so he never has to regret it or feel scared. Sure he’s small and his blood pressure is awful and he has bad insomnia and when he’s not intoxicated he feels like shit… but he’s fine. He’s not an addict. He’s having fun.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Read the tags if you have triggers and tell me if I missed any!_ There’s comfort in some parts but some pretty heavy and prolonged hurt in others. This story is not explicit but does deal with painful themes and subjects and Virgil has a low luck stat.
> 
> Check the post-chapter notes for word definitions if you’re confused about any of the slang or phrases used in this story. Because slang is regional I decided to save the readers some confusion and a potentially scarring urban dictionary visit. For fun, I also included the contents of the various mixed drinks ordered in the notes as well, since not everyone knows what they are.
> 
> If any trauma children are here: thank you for the support but for the love of rain, check the tags before you read this. It’s not pretty and I will not be warning in the endnotes. There are whump elements and some chapters are hurt/no comfort. Take care of yourselves.
> 
> ♪ [Slopes Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17GgdWyEy8Uiyu5BeLsuXC?si=4455d0871c0a4be3) ♫

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is fine. Everything's fine. This is fine.

Virgil tapped his fingers on the half-empty glass, watching the condensation roll down the side of the glass onto the cheap bar coaster. He had enough that the astringent cleaner taste of the gin and tonic didn’t even bother him anymore. He picked at the coaster by scratching at a wet patch with his nail absent-mindedly. He didn’t entirely feel here, but enjoyed the pleasant floaty euphoria of being drunk all the same.

The bar was loud like it always was, but that had mostly drowned itself out, too. Virgil was too tanked to care about the volume or the people jostling him. Everything exhausted him and he just didn’t feel like expending the energy to give a shit. Virgil tentatively sipped at the drink again, but the bar was already spinning slightly and Virgil wasn’t ready to throw up just yet. He wasn’t that far off, though. It was getting close to puke-o-clock, probably. Virgil never remembered enough to know. 

Someone put their hand on Virgil’s shoulder while they ordered from the bartender with the wild hair and lip piercing, but Virgil didn’t feel like shrugging them off or saying anything. The hand was uncomfortably warm, but it moved away soon enough. An unpleasant sensation crawled up Virgil’s spine, so he drank again to scrub the feeling from his brain.

It didn’t go away, even at the bottom of the glass. Virgil scowled at the empty cup and rolled his shoulders a few times to remove the awful feeling. He had to grip the bar to keep from falling over, but it wouldn’t go away. His skin still burned and crawled. Damnit, this wasn’t supposed to happen when he was drunk. Mayhaps he wasn’t drunk enough. That was an issue that could be solved, though.

Virgil held up a finger and looked pointedly to the bartender. The bartender watched Virgil curiously for a moment. “Yeah, no can do-sville, babydoll,” Their response was incredibly sardonic. “You’re about to fall over,” The bartender shook their head, pointing at Virgil. Huh?

“I’m not, I’m jus’… dancing,” Virgil shook his head, and that was a terrible plan. “This is my jam,” He nearly threw up in his mouth, but raised his fist to pump it to the beat of some unknown top-chart song muffled by the bar patrons. Moving too fast was dangerous, but he was fine with this. It would be fun if he could even hear the music. The bartender refilled Virgil’s glass with plain tonic and a lemon wedge, instead. Mm, lemony goodness sounded nice.

“If you throw up, I’m telling Remus to not let you in next time. And you basically _live_ here, so let’s not push it,” The bartender responded loudly over the noise and shoved the glass in Virgil’s hand that had fallen to the bar after the failed attempt. He didn’t want to get kicked from another bar. Virgil sighed and gripped the glass carefully to drink some tonic. There was a lingering gin flavour in the glass that Virgil appreciated. He shouldn’t, since everyone says it tastes like medieval medicine, but he did.

Virgil looked around the bar. The area had mostly cleared out, and there were only a few lingering people and groups. It was probably close to last call. Virgil wouldn’t have gotten any more alcohol either way. Virgil sighed and nursed his tonic, shooting a glance at the smug bartender who was cleaning up.

“Can I have another lemon wedge?” Virgil asked, pointing to his drink. The bartender smiled and used the tongs to plop another slice of lemon in his cup. “Thanks,” Virgil fished it out and started eating it.

“You really enjoy bitter and sour flavours, hm? You always ask for no simple in mixes and snack on lemons like candy,” The bartender asked, holding up a lime wedge with a fresh set of tongs. Virgil nodded and the lime slice bobbed in his tonic as it landed.

“I think they’re the only flavours I understan’,” Virgil used the straw to fish out the lime to eat that as well. He had the drunk munchies, but the bar kitchen had long since closed.

“How about tangy and salty?” The bartender jiggled a bottle of olive juice at Virgil before putting it back under the bar.

“Tangy is fine, salty is great, though. I’m made of salt. I’ve been told that, you know. It was declared that a dragon witch enchanted a giant rock of salt, an’ that’s how I was born. I’m like 90% salt by volume. I’m 180 proof, but with salt,” Virgil rambled deliriously, sometimes the words muffled by Virgil munching on a citrus wedge. The bartender dropped another lemon wedge in Virgil’s drink and topped it off with the tonic gun.

“If you’re made of salt, isn’t it cannibalism if you eat salty things?” The bartender grinned playfully. 

“No, no, gotta maintain that salt level,” Virgil smirked at them, sipping at his tonic. He liked this bartender. He vaguely remembered that. Though they did make great drinks. Great drinks that were threatening to come back up. He might have pounded the rest of that drink too fast. “If I throw up but keep it in the toilet, does that still get me banned?” He added, feeling sick to his stomach again. His skin still mildly tingled in a weird scratchy way, too. The alcohol didn’t solve it, but it was low enough Virgil could ignore it by now, at least.

“Yes. Keep it in you or get a cab home,” The bartender demanded, tapping their pointer finger to the bar resolutely.

“Fine, fine, geez,” Virgil rolled his eyes. He would just rely on his stomach to not be a little bitch.

Virgil stared at his drink for a while, spacing out. He was fuzzy and toasty and feeling good, even though he felt dizzy and sick. Being drunk was weird like that sometimes. You can get bad-drunk where you feel too sick and need to lie on the floor and vom, or you can get fun-drunk where nothing is sicky or hurty. Virgil was kind of in between the two, he figured. The dizziness wore off a bit the more he nursed his tonic, and he was feeling more comfortable. It meant he was getting less drunk, though, and Virgil didn’t like that as he listened to the hustle and bustle around him in the bar.

He watched the bartender work when he wasn’t staring at his cup. They seemed busy. It was probably a rough job. They had an amazing smile, though. One of those self-assured smirks that made it look like they were scheming. Or it could be his drunkenness interpreting it weird. Either way, he liked watching them work and examining all the shiny bottles on the wall behind them. He was enough sheets to the wind that the glass bottles of alcohol seemed to shine as he looked at all of them.

“Hey V, need a topper?” Someone walked up next to Virgil and asked, but he was too drunk to figure out how to look.

“Bartender says no,” Virgil groaned with a small pout.

“Not that kind of topper. The _other_ kind,” The person poked at Virgil’s nose and he scrunched up his face in protest.

“He’s asking if you want to buy some extra coke, idiot,” The bartender rolled their eyes and returned to cleaning with a rag, but stayed nearby.

“Oh, no, ’m still good,” Virgil rubbed his eyes blearily. He didn’t know his dealer was here.

“Yeesh, you’re lucky the bar is empty,” Jay scoffed and kicked Virgil’s leg. “I’m sure I’ll see your ass right here on Wednesday with some money for me?” He asked, sounding kind of pissed for some reason.

“Yeah, yeah. Wad o’cash,” Virgil waved them off. Virgil got punched in the side, but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt through the alcohol. It seemed like Jay left since he said nothing else and no other hits landed on him. Virgil glanced at the bartender, who looked annoyed at Virgil, too. What the hell? He didn’t do anything.

“Exactly how much coke do you _do_? This is like the third time I’ve seen that piece of shit,” The bartender dropped a lemon wedge straight in Virgil’s hand, this time for him to suck on. He bit into it and lifted his head to look at the bartender again.

“I dunno. ’nough to get through work, I guess,” Virgil chewed on the rind distractedly.

“Last call!” The bartender called out across the floor. Virgil held up his finger to order another drink. “Not for you,” They rejected Virgil’s order stoutly. Virgil stuck out his tongue at them and made a face. “Have you considered that if you need to do fucking coke to get through your job, that maybe that job isn’t for you?” The bartender asked bitterly.

“I don’ need it, it jus’ makes things easier. S’fine,” Virgil huffed defensively before slurring out an answer and dropping his head to the bar. The music was turned down to what was probably a much more tolerable level, but Virgil’s ears were ringing either way.

“If you drink less, you won’t be as hungover and won’t need so much _help_. Also, coke makes you feel like shit when you’re not on it, you could stop those side-effects too,” The bartender grumbled in Virgil’s general direction.

“Yeah, great, perfect advice, stop drinking an’ doing drugs, sounds good,” Virgil grumped into the weirdly slick bar surface. “Jus’ sell me another drink so I can black out proper, thanks,” He flipped the bartender off.

“How do I know you’re not _already_ blacked out? You never remember talking to me,” The bartender protested. “I’ve told you my name at least seven times already. What is it?” The bartender asked. Virgil paused and tried to remember while he stared at the reflective bar surface. Absolutely nothing came to mind.

“Fuck,” Virgil banged his head against the bar. “Well, mission ‘complished. I don’ think I’m blacked out, but my brain’s useless anyway,” He spun his finger in the air sarcastically.

“Surprising. Not that you don’t tip well, but this is getting harder to watch, Virgil,” The bartender sighed and pulled a beer, then passed it off to someone Virgil never noticed step up to the bar.

Virgil sipped at his drink and stared at his cup again, playing with the condensation on the side of the glass. He didn’t understand what was hard to watch. Virgil turned to see the bartender serve just another two people before they went back to cleaning and organizing the bar. He returned to slowly shredding the wet coaster with his finger lazily, leaning on one arm.

He didn’t want to interrupt the bartender while they were working, and they were moving swiftly as they sorted and wiped with a focused expression. They seemed busy. Virgil examined the bottles on the bar again as he nursed his drink. He didn’t want to make a big mess either, so he made sure all the coast bits were on top of the coaster and used his straw to mess with the crushed ice instead. He liked the sound it made. It felt like both ages had passed and also no time at all when Virgil came back from a slow blink.

“Is it always this boring with me?” Virgil groaned, pulling himself up to sip at his tonic.

“I suppose. Sometimes you do the anticipated nonsense. You went home with your dealer once. I think he’s mad at you because you never called him back. You put forty dollars in the jukebox app once to play songs you thought sounded funny. You tried to dance on the bar once, but I bribed you with garlic fries to stop so I wouldn’t have to kick you out. I’m pretty certain you either had a threesome in the bathrooms or watched them make a biohazard out of the stalls,” The bartender explained while they served another beer and a rum and coke.

“Garlic fries sound _amazing_ right now,” Virgil bemoaned, hitting his head on the bar again. “I didn’ know I got game,” He added thoughtfully, returning to his drink.

“You’re disarmingly shy enough that people feel comfortable with you. You don’t need game when you’re that cute, either,” The bartender pointed an empty glass at Virgil and he reflexively looked down at himself. “You’re not worried about hooking up with your dealer?” The bartender asked incredulously and Virgil looked back up at them slowly.

“Don’ people often hook up with their dealers?” Virgil asked and started playing with a striped lemon rind.

“I’m pretty certain he actually _likes you_ -likes you, and that’s a little different from the normal way of things,” The bartender raised an eyebrow at Virgil.

“Y’think if I finish that gin bottle I could forget my name? That’d be cool,” Virgil hummed, pointing at the gin on the wall. “He’s really not a puh… whatever you called him. He’s real nice,” Virgil added after a moment of judgemental glaring from the bartender.

“He punched you right in front of me,” The bartender clanked a bottle down hard on the bar before moving it.

“I barely felt it an’ I like it a lil’ rough. Couldn’t feel otherwise while ’m hammered,” Virgil shrugged dismissively.

“He wasn’t fucking you over the bar, just fucking _punching_ you. That’s not acceptable behaviour from _anyone_ ,” The bartender groaned and rolled their eyes.

“An’ I continue to not care,” Virgil shrugged and took a sip from his drink. “This gin is watered down, are you ripping me off?” He pointed at his cup and looked at the bartender.

“It’s just tonic, I _cut_ you off,” The bartender chucked a towel at Virgil’s face and he laughed. Virgil put the damp towel on the bar for them to take back.

“So, I can’t get a dark an’ stormy?” Virgil pouted out his lower lip at the bartender.

“You can have a ginger beer out of the bottle,” The bartender proposed instead with a flat tone.

“Sold,” Virgil nodded and held up his hand. The bartender pulled a ginger beer out of the cooler and slammed off the bottle cap on the metal rim of the bar, then added it to Virgil’s tab on the big touch-screen monitor next to them. Virgil sipped at it with a sigh of relief. He was feeling less sick, but this didn’t taste alcoholic. Sneaky bartender. Oh, wait. Ginger beer isn’t alcoholic. Virgil cackled to himself and pushed his hair out of his face. He took a few large sips while the bartender looked at Virgil oddly.

“How do you even have sex this drunk, anyway? Don’t you get whiskey dick?” The bartender sighed, sounding resigned for some reason. “I’m cashing you out, by the way, you’re not buying anything else,” They added, waving their hand in the air.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” Virgil pressed his lips together tight for a moment while Janus clicked around on the big touch screen the tabs were on. He sipped at the ginger beer and chewed on a lemon wedge out of his tonic.

“Are you going to go with some random remaining floozy today or just head home today?” The bartender asked.

“Nobody came to me today. You’re the only one that called me hot. Unless you want me to go with you?” Virgil pointed to himself in confusion.

“No, I deal with drunks enough and I’m still not sure you’ll resist vomiting everywhere,” The bartender held up their hands and shook them. “What did you want to tip today?” They asked, looking exhausted. The neon lights of alcohol signs didn’t do much for lighting up people’s faces in a nice way. Virgil probably looked bruised or something.

“I dunno, does fifty sound good for putting up with me? I think so,” Virgil nodded sagely. “Can I stay while you close?” Virgil asked hopefully.

“I know you don’t remember, but this is nonsense,” The bartender crossed their arms and glared at Virgil for a moment.

“But I don’ feel like walking,” Virgil whined, pouting at the bartender again.

“I doubt you do, but you’ve got some time to recover still. Otherwise, I’ll let you stay an extra thirty minutes if you clean the empty tables properly and without puking when you bend over,” The bartender offered, hefting up and bucket and a clean rag.

“I can do that,” Virgil nodded and took a large swig of the ginger beer before taking the bucket handle and heading over to clean the empty table near the bar. There were still glasses on it, and Virgil glared at them. The bartender came around with a cart and cleaned off all the glasses into a plastic tub and the trash into a bag. Virgil smiled and slipped on the plastic gloves hanging off the sides before starting to carefully wipe down the tables. He had to work deliberately or he upset his stomach or would miss things, but he made progress on helping clean up the bar.

The bartender came around with a different bucket and started doing the bar seats after bussing all the tables. Virgil was glad he was just on tables since that required more bending than Virgil likely had in him. Especially since Virgil mostly had lots of gin and tonic in him. The bouncer came in and pointed to Virgil, but the bartender shook their head. 

The bouncer ushered the last group of people out of the bar with a few loud objections, and Virgil smiled at them smugly as they walked out. He stuck out his tongue at them before going to the bar for another swig of ginger beer before returning to the tables. The bouncer headed into the back and came out with a push broom a few minutes later. Virgil hadn’t realized that it had gotten so late while he worked. Which was probably to be expected. The music was turned down lower, and the track was changed to Queen, which the bouncer sang along with.

Virgil had to take another ginger beer and bathroom break, but the tables were done before the others finished their tasks. He wiped down the bar top before dropping the bucket off where he picked it up from and slapped the gloves back on the side. Virgil sat back down and dumped some ginger beer in his half-empty tonic just because he could, and sipped at it while he stared blankly at the empty bar. 

A few songs passed while Virgil enjoyed his time in the much quieter and more comfortable bar, but he watched to make sure the bouncer or bartender was still nearby. He didn’t like it when one of them went into the back. It didn’t feel right. Being alone in a bar felt fucked up. He liked watching the bouncer dancer while they worked. The bartender sang along with some of the Jazzier songs, and they had a nice voice. He still wanted another drink, but he was still drunk and still kind of pukey, so he got over it quickly while he kicked his feet and sipped his drink at the bar, and leaned on both hands.

“Your extra thirty is up, Virgil, go on,” The bartender motioned over their shoulder. Damnit. Virgil wasn’t ready to go.

“I’ve got like three sips left. Three minutes?” Virgil shook his nearly empty ginger beer bottle at the bartender.

“Fine, but any longer and I’m throwing your drunk ass out on the street myself,” The bartender responded shortly. Yeesh. Virgil drank the last bit in his tonic glass and took a deep breath.

Okay. Walking home. He needed to psych himself up. He could do it. He wasn’t that far. Just a few blocks, an elevator ride, and a hallway to his front door. Virgil pulled out his phone to check the time. Shit, it had almost been three minutes. Virgil put his phone down on the bar and slammed the last of his ginger beer. He took his empties to the bus cart parked next to the bar and waved at the bartender, signalling that he was leaving. The bartender smiled and waved back, and it relieved Virgil that he didn’t piss them off and get kicked out.

Virgil stumbled down the ramp at the bar entrance and ran into the door. The bouncer came behind him, laughing their ass off, and unlocked the door for Virgil to make his way into the streets. He saluted the bouncer with two fingers and took a deep breath of the night air. It wasn’t sobering, which was great. He didn’t want to be sober. The door locked behind Virgil and he looked around to get his bearings before walking down the sidewalk towards his condo.

There was a new moon tonight, and it was darker than normal, but there were still street lights to rely on. The bar lights were dim and Virgil’s eyes adjusted easily as he plodded along. Every uneven portion of sidewalk tripped him up, but he kept going. It couldn’t be that much longer until his apartment building. He wanted to sit. He was too drunk for this. This walk sucked.

A cracked part of the sidewalk that had swelled from a tree branch sent Virgil rushing town towards the concrete. He couldn’t catch himself in time, and god damn did his nose hurt now. Virgil groaned and gradually pulled himself up onto his feet. He stood up and stumbled backward into something hard. He turned to look and someone was jamming a gun in his back. Huh.

“Uh, hey,” Virgil waved and wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve. “What’s up?” He asked, stepping away from the gun, but the person grabbed Virgil’s shoulder and pulled him back against it. It jabbed into his spine sharply and Virgil flinched.

“Wallet, phone, anything else of value,” They demanded and rammed the gun harder against Virgil’s back, pulling Virgil into the barrel.

“That hurts,” Virgil grumbled and started flailing for his shit. He patted his front pocket a few times, struggling to get in with the way he was being pulled back. “I’m getting them, Jesus, but I need my arms,” Virgil yanked his shoulder out of their arm and lost his balance, stumbling back and stepping on the mugger’s foot by accident.

“You think this is fucking _funny_?” They growled, and Virgil got struck on the other shoulder with the butt of their gun, and they wrenched Virgil around to face them. Whoops, there’s that alcohol, that was way too fast for his stomach. Virgil dry heaved a few times and stumbled back on his ass. “Is this a god damn _game_ to you?” They did that whisper-shout thing and lashed their free hard around to jab Virgil in the face. He was hit right in the eye and fell back against the concrete.

He got hit a few more times probably, but the throwing up was more urgent and Virgil rolled over and lost his ginger beer and his last gin and tonic. Damnit. He liked those. Virgil got punched in the face again while they rifled through his pants pockets. This was so unnecessary, Virgil would have just handed them over.

“Where’s your shitting phone?” The mugger pulled up Virgil by his jacket and hissed in his face. Virgil fruitlessly tapped his front pockets and shrugged. “You’re such a drunk piece of shit,” They dropped Virgil to the sidewalk.

“Tell me about it,” Virgil muttered and rolled his eyes as the mugger rushed away. He listened to them run away with his eyes closed for a moment, but then realized if they caught him near his puke he might have to clean it up, and he didn’t think he could deal with that. Virgil wiped off his mouth on his jacket and got up, tripping against a wall before he hurried away in a drunk stumble.

He reached for his key card for the gate, but it wasn’t there. He grumbled and entered his unit number to ring his phone, but he didn’t have that, either. Son of a bitch. Well, what can you do? Virgil backed up and took a running start to jump the gate. He nearly didn’t get a hold of it and would have fallen again, but even though his hand slipped, he made it over the gate. 

Virgil landed hard on his hip on the other side, but he made it over. He headed inside his building and grumbled to himself as he headed to the elevator. Why did his face hurt again? He rubbed it and blood came back on his hand. Huh. Oh, right, the punchy guy.

The elevator ride might have been dangerous if he had anything left on his stomach. It churned uncomfortably as he made it up to his floor. He dug his keys out from the lanyard under his jacket and struggled to get them in the front door, but was so relieved when he finally made it back to his place. He locked up behind him and dropped his keys on the floor. Virgil was too drunk to handle any of this, so he just stood in the shower fully clothed for a bit. Soak the blood or whatever, right? Right.

Virgil showered in a wobbly manner, not doing that great of a job. He was eventually mostly washed but too tired to move on, so he just leaned against the shower wall, getting pelted by the showerhead with a pile of clothes at his feet. After the water ran cold, Virgil left his clothes in a wet heap on the shower floor and dried off. He fell back onto his bed in nothing but a towel and passed out instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Ocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge1/pseuds/midge1) for Beta'ing!
> 
> Drinks and Drinking Lingo:  
>  Gin & Tonic: What it says on the tin. Virgil gets it with crushed ice and a citrus wedge or two.  
>  Dark-and-Stormy: Rum, Ginger Beer, Lime  
>  Simple: Simple Syrup, which is just sugar syrup.  
>  Last Call: The final drink order of the night before the bar closes (usually between 30min-2hrs).  
>  Slang for Being Extremely Drunk: Hammered, Tanked.  
>  “Enough sheets to the wind" is a reference to “three sheets to the wind" which is also slang for being incredibly drunk.  
>  Cocaine Lingo:  
>  Coke (This one is probably a given)
> 
> — ≛ —
> 
> Jay (Jason) Jealousy was Zillah’s original name in Break until I changed it, since I wanted a more unique name for him. I uploaded Break all deliriously at 6am so there were actually a few instances where Jay didn’t get changed to Zi in the upload for a few days. As you can guess, Jay is bad news in this story. I was originally going to make the dealer Remy but he ended up being too much of an asshole and I don’t do even borderline unsymp characters. Originally this was going to be sleepxiety but too much trauma happened for addict dating a dealer shenanigans.
> 
> Okay so at 6 in the morning I was watching Sanders Sides animatics, right? I was watching [Jessibbb](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCK0d9DmiTorFk7ThFcCButg)'s [the one thing you cant replace ♡ sanders sides ♡ animatic](https://youtu.be/aw2xfiFqKEo) in which Virgil, voiced by John Mulaney, is recounting a time when he was blackout drunk. And the idea of blackout drunk Virgil lived _so rent free_ in my head that this happened. Anyway don't watch animatics at 6am before sleeping or trauma happens, kids.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil's brain chemicals go for a rollercoaster ride.

It wasn’t the first time Virgil woke up naked with wet hair in his bed, but he didn’t expect it today. It was at least his own bed. He wasn’t under the impression he drank that much yesterday, but he must have. His nose hurt like shit, though. Virgil grumbled and rubbed his face, bumping his nose, which hurt worse, now. That was fucking stupid. He headed into the bathroom to survey the damage. Okay, he had at least seven bruises and dried blood under his nose. He also had a massive shiner. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain that at work. And his hip was crazy sore? What the hell happened?

Virgil pulled out some concealer to hide this big-ass black eye. He couldn’t think of any work-appropriate explanation while dead exhausted on his feet. Virgil couldn’t stay awake long enough to blend out the edges. He was leaning his head against the bathroom mirror, his eyes trying to flutter closed. Virgil felt like he might pass out or throw up. He could solve those feelings, at least. Virgil grabbed out his coke from under the sink and portioned out a fresh slope on the tray. He did a quick line. The straw hurt his nose, but it went numb shortly after and it was one less thing to deal with. Virgil went back to hiding his bruise with a little more vigour. His arm went numb, too, but in the mirror, it didn’t matter. He’d probably have to do some extra coke at work since he went skiing so early today. He’d been having to do that more, lately.

It was fine. They didn’t drug test people in his position. He just rubbed it into his gums in the office. Virgil’s nose started bleeding while he blended the concealer out. He grumbled and rammed a tissue up his nostril. Whoops, he forgot to use the nasal spray again. Or maybe his nose had gotten broken last night. He could have sworn it looked a little crooked. He wasn’t sure which, honestly. It didn’t matter; he would not find out, no matter how hard he tried. He was feeling good right now, so there was no point in dwelling.

Virgil had long since abandoned trying to figure out what happened in his life. He destroyed his ability to retain information ages ago. If he wasn’t high on coke, he was drinking. There wasn’t anything worth remembering, anyway, and he always got to have fun without regrets the next morning because he never knew what transpired. These days, all he knew consistently was how much blow he had left.

Also that his heart hurt. He was having powerful palpitations right now from the coke, and he could feel his blood pulsing. Virgil leaned forward on the mirror to breathe through it. It always went away. He was terrified and half-convinced he was actually dying, but it had to be fine. Virgil was always fine later. He couldn’t see a doctor. It was sharp and horrible and distressing, but it wouldn’t last. Virgil’s hands went numb as he gripped his shirt and the bathroom counter. It would pass, it would pass, it’s not a heart attack, it would pass. Virgil tried his hardest to breathe. Virgil couldn’t go to the doctor, they would _know_. He was always fine in the past. He’d be fine, right? Things are fine.

Virgil glanced in the mirror and saw the wet heap of clothes in the shower behind him. This is probably one of those circumstances his sense of smell isn’t very strong. He should throw those in the wash. Virgil gripped at this chest for a while longer, just trying to even out his pained gasps enough to be functional. After the first successful deep breath, he pulled a towel out from under the sink to transport his clothes to the washing machine. If he focused on something else, this will be easier to get through. Virgil carried the sopping heap to the machine and set it to soak with some vinegar and extra soap before running.

His chest still hurt, though. He needed to finish getting ready for work, and that was something else he could focus on. Virgil pulled on a black button-down under his black suit and a grey tie. Just to look like the void. He also touched up his concealer a few times obsessively in the mirror while he was brushing his hair and teeth. The nosebleed finally stopped, but Virgil grabbed a pack of pocket tissues in case it started back up.

Virgil was going to be running late soon, but he couldn’t find his phone or his wallet. After the final failed search, he grumbled angrily. He probably left them somewhere stupid while trashed again. Virgil would have to cancel all his cards and order new things at his work computer. He could track his cell, though, and maybe if he left them in the same place, like a restaurant or a bar, he could get them both back. But he should get a new bank and credit card to be safe. Reordering his driver’s license could wait until he was sure. It wasn’t like he drove, and they didn’t card him at the bar anymore. If he had any cash that was probably gone, but he could have lost that while he was plastered in any number of ways.

He found his keys near the doorway and made sure he had a bag of snow before rushing out the door to the bus stop. Virgil should probably eat, but he didn’t have any appetite. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs anymore, though, so he knew he needed something. He bounced his leg on the bus ride with his arms crossed tightly. The ride took forever without a phone to distract him. At least he felt good. A fresh slope always felt amazing and made the world feel better.

At his stop, he hopped out and grabbed an egg sandwich at the coffee shop next door to his work building and ate it on the way up to his office. He smiled, nodded, waved, and laughed as needed while interacting with all the surrounding people like he was supposed to do. They laughed and chatted about his breakfast, dressing like a shadow, and the fact that he pushed his bangs to the opposite side of his face today.

Nobody noticed the bruises hidden under his suit or concealer, or Virgil’s small limp. No one said anything when he threw away bloody tissues at his desk. It was normal when Virgil didn’t eat lunch in the break room or order food to his office. People applauded his ability to be so energetic after lunch when people started getting tired. Things were routine. Virgil saw someone stole his cards online when he realized he had transactions this morning while he was asleep and reported them as gone, then applied for replacement cards. He probably wasn’t getting his wallet back. He contacted his condo to get a new key card after he got off work, though he had to pay a large fee for it.

His phone was showing to still be at the bar, though, so he might get lucky and get that back. Or unlucky, and they’re trying to bait him to return there. But he would go anyway because he was pretty certain that was just paranoia. Virgil started the process of getting a new driver’s license, too. He also bought a wallet with a chain, so hopefully, he doesn’t leave it somewhere stupid again. He couldn’t wear the chain at work, but he changed out of his suit to go to the bar, anyway. Until then he’d just put the key card on his key lanyard.

Virgil sighed when he made it back to his condo with his new key card from the leasing office. That was a mess of judgemental stares. He didn’t normally get those while he was still in a suit. He shrugged out of his button-down in front of his washing machine and restarted the wash with it in there, feeling gross. Virgil hung up the suit jacket and trousers and steamed them clean with the hand steamer. He wandered into the kitchen for food since he should probably eat. He was dead exhausted and nauseated and nothing sounded good and he had no appetite, so he ordered himself delivery of chicken soup and some fancy breadsticks that the restaurant had. That was decent enough.

He was too beat to do anything else, and it wasn’t like he had many groceries, so he just opted to lie down. Virgil passed out on the couch until they called up to get let in the gate. He conked out yet again until there was a knock at his door with his food, which caused him to jump and roll off the couch painfully onto the floor. He yelped when he landed on his hip but did his best to make it to the doorway and gather food abandoned on his doormat, trying to stay mostly behind the door.

“Thank you!” Virgil called out down the hall on the off chance the delivery person was still close enough to hear. He bent down to pick up the bag, his hip protesting again, and gathered his food.

The idea of eating turned his stomach, but it was a soup that he knew he managed well and he needed to eat more than a single egg on a biscuit in a day or he wouldn’t keep his alcohol down. Virgil dropped back on his couch since he couldn’t handle a dining chair on his ass at the moment. He turned on the TV for the illusion of company while he ate slowly with his disposable spoon provided. The food was good, probably. His sense of taste was pretty dull outside of really strong flavours. But Virgil was full and warm when he finished it all and passed back out on the couch to a sitcom about drinking.

— ≛ —

Virgil woke up with an angry grumble about two hours later, feeling confused. He looked around groggily for a moment. The streaming service asked if he was still there on the TV, and he was hanging off his couch in his boxers with indentations on his skin from the seams. He felt okay enough to finally drag his ass to the bar. Walking there wasn’t happening after commuting back from work, so the nap helped. How he napped multiple times when he rarely could sleep without being wasted was beyond him. He ran his hand through his hair and yawned before hauling himself off the couch.

He took a shower and changed into a pair of jeans. When he couldn’t find his regular jacket, he realized it was in the wash and moved it to the dryer, so he grabbed a different one to put over a soft shirt. Moving hurt. Everything ached if he stopped to think about it for more than a second. All the more reason to get drunk as fuck. Not that Virgil ever needed an excuse for getting faced. Drinking until it didn’t sting anymore was basically a national sport. He reached for his wallet out of the tray near the door out of habit and grumbled to himself again about the lack thereof.

After locking up behind him, he slipped his keys around his neck and tucked them under his jacket before he took the elevator downstairs. Walking really hurt his hip, so he wasn’t a fan of having to do this. But he’d have to walk to get alcohol either way. He may as well go somewhere he can sit and drink as much as he wants without having to carry a bunch of handles home. Virgil would probably drop the bottles, anyway. Plus, he didn’t enjoy sitting alone and getting faced. It felt wrong. It was lonely and depressing, and he had enough of that in his life as it was. Thus going to bars. Virgil walked along as hastily to The Corridor as his bum hip would let him.

The bouncer nodded to Virgil as he walked in past a small group of people they were checking the identification of, so Virgil gave them a small salute of acknowledgement. He headed straight to the bar and deposited himself on a stool with his hurt hip hanging off the edge. This would get sore quick, but he needed to ask the bartender a question or two and he couldn’t take standing any longer. He could move to a booth after he had some drinks in his hand. Virgil watched the bartender serve all the people around him first before stopping to stand in front of Virgil with their fist on their hip. They shot an annoyed expression with their eyebrows lowered at Virgil.

“Hey, again. Sorry for whatever I did to earn that face. I don’t suppose anyone turned in a wallet or phone?” Virgil asked over the music, leaning forward on the bar.

“You left your phone here last night, but not your wallet,” The bartender slipped Virgil’s phone out of their pocket and passed over the bar. Virgil took it with a big smile. He was so glad he didn’t need to buy a new phone on his lunch break tomorrow.

“Thanks. I had a bunch of transactions while I was asleep, so I figured it got stolen, but it would have been nice to get my wallet back. Did I… get in a bar fight or something?” Virgil pointed to his shiner. “I didn’t break anything or hurt anybody, did I?” He asked, feeling even more concerned. God, he fucked up bad, he probably is booted from the bar and this was the last one in walking distance and he wouldn’t able to drink all night anymore because the busses stop running at midnight so he’d have to leave early and while he was blacked out, he had no guarantee he’d even get home, he kept waking up at other people’s houses, he had no idea—

“No, Virgil, you were bruise-free when you left last night. You helped me close shop, not start a fight. You did nothing wrong. What happened?” The bartender leaned forward on the bar to look closer at Virgil.

“I don’t know!” Virgil raised his arms in a panic. “I don’t know, I’m just covered in bruises and my ass is killing me and I’m not sure but my nose is broken and everything hurts and can I please have two dark and stormies, because my head is pounding and my stomach hurts because I forced myself to eat food and I just am craving one, oh, god is that a sign of something—” Virgil rambled on and on while he gripped the counter.

“God god’s sake, breathe!” The bartender held up their hands and shouted at Virgil. Virgil’s eyes shot up to them. He didn’t realize they were flying around the room. Virgil gasped for air and dropped to the bar, gripping at his stomach.

“Oh, fuck you take phone payments, right? I don’t have any cash or cards because my wallet’s gone and I really need a drink, please, I’ll pay you back as soon as possible, you know I’m good for it, I can go to the bank tomorrow for cash but I slept for a while after work because I’m so fucking tired and sore and just didn’t think about it, I barely remembered my laundry, I left my clothes wet in the shower last night and that’s my favourite hoodie and I hope I didn’t destroy it, that mildew smell is awful and makes me nauseous and I’m so sick all the time and I tried vinegar already—” Virgil rambled into the bar, gripping it tight.

“Virgil. Virge. Hey. Hey, come here,” One of the bouncers of all people was next to Virgil and pulled him in for a hug while he was gasping for air. What did the bouncer want from him? How did they remember who he was? Were they stalking him? Were they going to hurt him? What was happening, though, why couldn’t he breathe? “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you really should make him that drink,” The bouncer sounded concerned and tapped on the bar. Virgil kept shaking because he didn’t know what was going on, and he ached and stung all over. Everything was so overwhelming that Virgil felt like he was being crushed by being alive.

“Dude, you have a serious problem,” The bouncer muttered and Virgil barely heard it over the music, but now he was even more scared because what was the problem, there was _more_ wrong than he realized? Virgil was sweating his ass off and his heart was pounding out of his chest. The formidable bouncer squeezed him in and it hurt his nose, but it helped him breathe and he didn’t like that at all. “Virgil, we’ll get you that drink, but why don’t you come with me somewhere quieter for a bit?” The bouncer suggested, reaching down for Virgil’s hand and pulled at it slightly.

This whole situation absolutely petrified him. Why did this big person want to be alone with Virgil? What the fuck was happening? Was he bothering other people, were they about to kick him out? He didn’t even get his drink. How was he supposed to have a drink? He needed it. He wouldn’t feel normal until he had a drink, and he really wanted that dark and stormy, and seriously, what if it was a sign of something to crave ginger and lime? What if he got some weird stomach tumour, and he was going to die of cancer? The bouncer pulled him away from the bar, keeping Virgil tucked under their arm. They went into the backroom to a small break room with a couch, and he didn’t think he was allowed to be back here and nobody would hear him scream back here over the bar music.

The bouncer turned off the light as they entered and picked up a remote to click off the TV. It was much quieter in here, and Virgil didn’t realize that was possible considering how intensely loud it was out there. Oh, god, what if they soundproofed it and they were going to do something to Virgil? Fuck shit, oh no, oh no. Virgil started pulling away, but the bouncer led him to the couch and sat him down along with the bouncer. They kept Virgil pulled in and the bartender came in briefly to drop off what looked like a dark and stormy on the table next to the couch. They were trying to make Virgil pliable. What if something was in that drink? Virgil was trembling hard and his hair was sticking to his face with sweat while his eyes shot wildly around the room for a way out. Remus checked Virgil’s forehead and pulse carefully while he struggled to breathe.

“Virgil, dude, look at me,” The bouncer gripped Virgil’s shoulders firmly, which pressed into a bruise that sent stabbing sensations through Virgil. “We’re not trying to hurt you. You’re probably going through a dopamine crash from the coke. You need plenty of water and something high in protein. I’ll get you some naked boneless wings from the kitchen later, but first I need you to breathe. This isn’t your first time back here and there are cameras. You know me and Janus,” They told him reassuringly. Virgil shook his head with his eyes wide open. It was so hot and Virgil couldn’t breathe deep, no matter how hard he tried.

“Okay, so you don’t remember us. But you’ve been coming here every day for a while and you drink yourself into oblivion almost every night, but some nights when you do too much coke in the day you come in and have a panic attack. How many rails did you do?” The bouncer looked at Virgil intensely. Okay, so they know, they know and fuck, shit, okay, maybe he’s having a panic attack, he’s freaking out, he can’t breathe. “My name is Remus, and the bartender is Janus. You know us. There’s nothing in the drink but what you asked for, and there won’t be anything in the wings. We’ve hung out together after close most nights because Janus has trouble saying no to your drunk puppy dog face and you always seem happy to help close. Now, seriously, how much did you do today? I need to know if this isn’t a panic attack but actually an overdose,” They asked again with an even voice, looking directly into Virgil’s eyes.

“Less than a gram, probably, I didn’t weigh it out? I normally have like half a gram-ish to keep it up in the day but I just couldn’t get up this morning and I took a rail early, so it wore off and it wore off early, too, so I had to do more than I usually do at work, I just avoid people when I’m coming down and just do all my work in the mornings basically but I was crashing bad and I had two meetings to get through that afternoon and I had to be on the ball. It’s a safe amount to take over twelve hours, and I already came down, I swear. The sleep thing is weird, I don’t even normally sleep that much according to my tracker thing, and I slept a ton today I couldn’t have done that if I was still high, but I don’t actually know? It’s not like I remember anything. I know you’re not supposed to mix alcohol and cocaine at the same time and do you really think I’m OD-ing because my heart is pounding and so is my head and I can’t breathe and I keep shaking and it’s so fucking hot and I don’t know what’s happening and I still kind of think you might rape me and or chop me up and eat me and I don’t know where that thought came from but I can’t get it out of my head and maybe you’ll do both and oh holy shit that’s overdose isn’t it? I’m going to die, I’m going to fucking die!” Virgil rambled out and gripped himself hard as he gasped for air.

“I’m pretty certain this is a panic attack, not overdose, but we’ll confirm. If you cannot calm down I’m calling an EMS, and I know you don’t want to go to the doctor, so we’re just going to breathe together, alright? I will count down from a hundred and you’re going to follow my breathing while you count with me. Your drink is right there and you can have some as soon as you're more steady, alright?” Remus motioned with their head to the drink and pulled Virgil in for another hug and put Virgil’s hand right over his heart. Remus tapped gently on the back of his hand and started counting down from one hundred. Virgil couldn’t figure out how to breathe and speak at the same time until seventy, but Remus said, “Nice,” When Virgil’s first full number was sixty-nine.

Virgil needed that drink, damnit, and it was right there. He could count for a drink. It’s his brain overreacting, right? Right? Fuck, he said the same number twice. Okay, Remus kept going anyway, he’ll be okay? Yeah. Yeah. This is like when he first does coke in the morning and it makes his heart freak out sometimes and he just has to ride it out. Wait, oh, god, no, what if it’s not the coke, and he has some type of cardiovascular issue that he’s been ignoring? He wouldn’t know unless he went into a doctor, he’d have to get an EKG and a heart echo or something. Fuck, they would know, they would know! Virgil couldn’t get out of the house without coke unless he was getting a drink but he couldn’t do coke to see the doctor, they’d tell him to quit—Oh fuck, he lost count again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big oof.
> 
> — ≛ —
> 
> Drinks:   
>  Dark-and-Stormy: Rum, Ginger Beer, Lime
> 
> Slang for Very Drunk: Trashed, Plastered, Wasted
> 
> Cocaine slang: coke, blow, slope, line, rail, going skiing 

**Author's Note:**

> ♪ [Slopes Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17GgdWyEy8Uiyu5BeLsuXC?si=4455d0871c0a4be3) ♫
> 
> Do you like whump? Do you like more Virgil angst? Please consider leaving a kudos and commenting below to give me some nice validation and empowering the creativity demon. Questions, comments, memes, rants, and incoherent screaming all accepted below. 
> 
> [Story Discord Server](https://discord.gg/ThcDBSP)
> 
> Does waiting for updates make you suffer? Well, you can help stave it off with some of my other angsty nonsense. I have much! My other Virgil whumppish content is the Break Series. I won't link it because it's explicit, but you can find it under my sesiran pseud. There's also some Logan angst over there. Would you like more angst? Try [Dreaming While I Wake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748232) for teen!Roman angst. Ayri! Please! No more angst! Daeram says too bad! Actually there's another two fluffier things coming out later. But here's [A Whole Castle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24402835) for some hurt comfort soul healing action and [Plea](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002264) for mind numbing fluff. Even more mind numbing? [Eglantine & Lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945719) might cut it. Good luck and thanks for reading!


End file.
